


Better Than Okay

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Communication, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 23:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16459385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: It's something new between them, and David just wants to be sure Frank's okay.





	Better Than Okay

For all that David absolutely wants to be doing anything but think right now, wants to leap into this head first and sort out any consequences after, the niggling thought gets into his head that something is wrong about this whole arrangement, and that kind of slows him down.

Frank is trusting him, like… a lot right now. Absolutely putting himself in David’s hands and giving over to what David wants.

Honestly this isn’t how David imagined this would go. He’d always imagined Frank would be a demanding lover, take what he wanted -- maybe not be a total fuckboy about it, he’d be considerate enough to make sure David got off too -- but he’d absolutely be in charge. He’d be the one doing the fucking, which David was absolutely okay with. He hadn’t really thought about the alternative much.

Okay, that was lie. Frank had a fantastic ass, and the idea of maybe a little tussle for control gone sexy had danced its way through David’s mind a fair few times.

Up until tonight, they’ve touched each other plenty, traded eager, needy handjobs after intense make out sessions that left David feeling like an eager, randy teenager again. There had been one memorable night involving sutures, arguing over Frank’s safety, and a mind-numbing blow job David still thought about, weeks later.

Now, he’s got two fingers buried in Frank, Frank is sprawled out under him, fighting to breathe steady like this is a battle of will and any wayward noise is a failure on his part. And David wants to pry him open, peel him out of that rigid self-control and see him raw and writhing -- _god_ , yeah, he does.

Except Frank’s eye just twitched, and his right hand has been doing that trigger-finger jerk that it does when he’s nervous, and David doesn’t exactly know why Frank would be nervous right now. David twists his wrist and Frank’s hand spasms, just slightly, finger squeezing rapid-fire on a gun that’s not there.

The selfish part of David wants to go back to not noticing that. Pay attention instead to Frank’s skin, scarred and shiny with sweat, his arms, tense and thick with muscle, his cock, hard and ready. If Frank didn’t want this, he wouldn’t have suggested it. He’d end it, like they both know he so easily could.

Except Frank is kind of stubborn, and when it comes to taking care of himself, he’s kind of stupid, and David can’t shake the idea that maybe Frank is only still lying there out of some misguided sense of having to see this through.

“You know if you don’t like this you gotta say, right?” he says, and then winces because that definitely wasn’t the right way to say that.

“Who says I don’t,” Frank growls, taking the words as some kind of challenge. That’s really the last thing they need, to drag pride into this, but here they are.

“I just mean,” David tries to correct, fumbling, “I don’t wanna hurt you. I don’t know when the last time you did this was and you seem… tense.”

And the words leave him, just like that, simple, artless, easy, and Frank’s suddenly refusing to meet his eyes, blushing brilliantly, and a lot of things suddenly make sense.

“Oh man,” David says, and he’s fighting not to grin now, fighting to keep a straight, even face. “Is this your first time, uh, on the bottom, Frank?”

He teases without really meaning to, but the darkening of Frank’s blush makes it feel worth it. Frank glares at him, then away.

“I don’t see how that’s important.”

Now _that_ gives David pause. That feels a little dismissive, a little cold. All the warmth David hadn’t really even processed feeling yet, all the pleasure derived from the mere concept of being Frank’s first in any regard, all that shrivels up and goes frigid.

Why would he ever think this was something special?

His fingers are out of Frank so fast the other man hisses, eyes back on David in surprise, disbelief, maybe something approaching anger.

“So let me get this straight,” he says, still kneeling between Frank’s spread legs. “You’ve never been fucked, and then today you just, uh, what? Followed a whim? Are you even enjoying this at all?”

“Thought that was obvious before you started acting like a jackass.”

David scoffs and shakes his head. When Frank tries to roll away from him though, probably to get up and dress and try to leave, he finds himself pressing a hand, just gently, to Frank’s stomach, holding him. It’s something Frank could easily ignore, but he doesn’t.

“Why are we doing this?”

Frank’s eyes narrow and his jaw sets. “Because you’re an argumentative piece of shit.”

“I mean,” David pushes, and he puts all his sincerity, all his gentle insistence into it, “why do you want… _this_ , now,” a shaking finger brushes up Frank’s thigh, between his asscheeks, and that earns David the softest sigh, the barest hint of Frank lifting and angling his hips. “Tonight? What made you want this?”

“It’s… we…” Frank stumbles, looking away, and back, and then away once more, legs spreading a little as David presses at the slick tightness of him. “I didn’t want you to get bored.”

The very idea is so startling David stops again, goes totally still, staring at Frank. “What?”

“Bored, I didn’t want… I know handjobs aren’t gonna keep you forever.”

“Frank, you don’t have to do anything, you don’t _owe_ me…”

“I know that!” Frank snaps, expression fierce for a moment before softening again. “I just didn’t want you to think I was leading you on. I thought by now you’d want… more, something real.”

David blinks, confused. “We’ve… been sleeping together for a month. Was that not supposed to count, or…?”

“You know what I mean, you pedantic prick.”

“I actually really don’t.”

Frank grumbles and glares to the side and David, hand between the Marine’s thighs, just barely tracing over the cleft of Frank’s ass, gives him time if not space. “Sex, David. Figured it was time we actually had sex.”

Again David feels his eyes widen. “You don’t think what we’ve been doing the last month was sex.”

“Foreplay,” Frank supplies, but he’s looking pointedly away now, the way he does when he feels out of place and stupid.

David though, David feels like he’s finally got the whole sad, nasty picture together. “Whoever convinced you that sex and penetration are the same thing didn’t deserve you,” he says, surprising himself with his own ferocity. He starts to pull away again. “We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I…”

Frank won’t look at him, but it’s shyness now, keeping his gaze firmly to the side. David feels his heart clench, love for this man blossoming all over again.

“I want it, though.”

David parts his lips to ask if he’s sure, and Frank turns his glare on him, spreading his legs again in wordless demand.

“I want it to be you.”

God, how had David ever thought of this man as someone uncomplicated, violence given flesh? How had he ever mistaken his passion for unfettered aggression, his drive for arrogance? How had he ever tried to imply that he was anything but a romantic?

Pulling back to re-slick his fingers, David returns to his initial task with eager attention. And Frank’s hand twitches, telegraphing what he won’t allow his voice to, and his face is taunt, tense as he tries not to give himself away, but that all cracks when David presses his third finger into him, burying his hand forward, and Frank groans out this helpless, almost questioning noise of pleasure.

“Right there, huh?” David asks, and he thinks he has a right to sound smug, some suburban, nobody analyst, making Frank fucking Castle moan like that. He circles his fingers against Frank’s prostate, watches precum drip from Frank’s cock, and listens to the beautiful sound of Frank _whining_.

Frank is lost, Frank is _gone_. His composure is utterly forfeit, but he stares up at David as David slicks himself in a goddamn hurry, colors up so pretty when David starts to press inside.

He takes it slow, careful, until he can’t anymore. Frank holds on to him so tight David just knows he’s bound to have handprint bruises on his sides, his back, tomorrow. When he takes Frank in hand and strokes him, just the once, Frank chokes and fucks back against him, artless and needy.

It’s intense, and David wants to make Frank come just this way, surrounded by him, loved by him. It's the only thing that keeps him from exploding right away, needing to last long enough to feel Frank come first. When he does, _David_ sees stars, the sudden clamping around him almost too much. He watches Frank’s come splatter up Frank’s stomach and just like that he’s done too, driving in hard as he comes.

What possesses him to start licking up the mess splashed across Frank’s flat, perfect stomach, he couldn’t say. The weak, half-disgusted, half-aroused growl it earns him from Frank seems like reason enough, and he doesn’t stop until the last trace is gone from Frank’s skin.

“Was that okay,” he asks a few minutes later, laying next to Frank and trying to remember how to breathe normally. “Get what you wanted?”

Frank laughs at him and swats his arm.

“I got you,” he says, burrowing his face against David’s shoulder. “Better than okay.”


End file.
